Vode An
by LadyZelthePen
Summary: Chronological moments of a commando squad before, during, and beyond the Clone Wars. K for now, but might go up later.
1. Born

**This is not an actual story; it is more like a collection of essentially chronological moments in the lives of a commando squad during and beyond the Clone Wars. I will not be updating regularly, and I'll do my best to keep it to the facts. The commandos RC-7156, RC-9934, RC-7533, and RC- 8112 are OCs; everyone else already belongs to George Lucas or Karen Traviss, or someone. **

**Born**

He opened his eyes. It was dark, or at least his senses were telling him it was dark. He blinked a few times, seeing tiny spots of light. He turned his head, the spots dancing and growing larger. He blinked again, trying to make sense of it all. His mind grasped a concept, a thought- he was looking at white.

White.

He knew what it was. He knew the standard colors; red, yellow, blue, black, and white. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.

"RC 7156."

The voice was soft. His head swiveled, almost of its own accord, to look at the gently swaying head of a Kaminoan scientist. Blinking again, he looked up at her. It was indeed a woman; he could tell by the basic anatomy. How he knew all that, he wasn't sure.

"The vital signs are normal." Gracefully, the Kaminoan turned to another similar sentient, a male this time. "This unit is a success."

His gaze flicked around the room while they talked, their musical voices lifting and dropping occasionally. It was all white; the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Even the bed he was on was white. The sheets were folded over, a large portion of it directly behind his seated portion. He looked down at his hands. His skin wasn't white, a puzzling thought. Everything here was white; why wasn't he?

"RC 7156."

He looked back up at the Kaminoan, holding her golden eyes with his own.

"Move your fingers." She had picked up a datapad and was studying it now. Slowly, he lifted his arm, surprised to find it as bare as his hand, and began touching his fingers. The Kaminoan seemed to hum to herself, her slender white fingers tapping out something quickly on the pad.

"Now your toes."

He complied with her instruction, arching his bare feet and wriggling his toes. They were so small, he couldn't imagine any practical use for them. But he already knew he was perfectly created, and there was nothing wrong with him. He needed the toes.

"Now stand up."

His feet connected with the cold floor. His sense of touch was awakened; he felt the layer of wax used to polish the tiles, his bare skin squeaking with the movement of running his foot across the surface. He felt his mouth widen, stretching and turning upward. A smile.

"RC 7156," the Kaminoan said, her voice an octave lower. Angry, he interpreted. Annoyed, frustrated. He tamped the smile down. "Your uniform is there. Report to Sergeant Apma immediately."

"Sir, yes sir!" The reply rolled off his tongue smoothly, without thought. He paused to think about it afterward. It meant compliance, obedience. Why had he said it?

The uniform was laid out on a metal table close by; gray with red sleeves. He was shocked it wasn't white. Another smile. He fingered the material; soft. The smile widened. Pulling the shirt over his head, it fit perfectly. He must have been grinning.

The Kaminoans had left; it was just him and the white. He smiled easier now, pulling on the trousers and then the boots. His footsteps taking him outside the room were quiet, tranquil. It must have been the floors. In front of him stretched an enormous glass wall, and beyond, a structure containing his brothers. He didn't give it or them a second glance. They were still encased in fluid, un-breathing, un-thinking. He wasn't. He could think, breathe, move.

He had been born. They hadn't.

He passed another window, on his right. He stopped. The Kaminoans were there. The female was removing a needle from the next unit. A boy. Him.

RC-7156 watched the other boy blink and then sit up. He watched him touch his fingers then arch his feet, much in the same way he had done. The boy stood, stretched his arms out, and twisted his upper body. He hadn't done that; he could imagine the boy's muscles stretching out, warming up. The boy bent over and touched the floor then rose back up, his arms extended straight over his head. One hand clasped around a wrist, the boy stretched to the side, then the other.

His motor skills were fine; why was he still testing them out? The boy rolled his head in a circle, loosening his neck muscles. A cheeky grin spread across his face; the Kaminoan's back was turned. RC-7156 shook his head and turned away as the Kaminoan pointed out a uniform for the boy and then swept from the room, the male in tow.

He backed against the wall, grateful she didn't see him standing there and staring. He was to be reporting to Sergeant Apma, and he would. But not yet. He looked back at the other boy pulling on his gray and red uniform.

Familiarity.

The boy straightened and walked toward the door. His eyes fell on him, and a grin spread across his face.

"So which one are you?" he asked.

"RC-7156. What about you?"

"RC-9934. Who are you reporting to?"

"Sergeant B'arin Apma." The grin widened. "You too, huh?"

"Yeah. Come on. We can walk together."

They fell in step beside each other. RC-7156 glanced at his companion.

"Wonder if we'll be in the same squad." RC-9934 grinned.

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

He stopped, staring. "Why what?"

"Why don't you think so?" RC-9934 shrugged. "There's nothing saying we won't be."

"Well, it's highly unlikely. Just because we have the same training sergeant doesn't mean we'll be in the same squad. There will be ninety-eight others with Apma, and we'll be divided up based on your various strengths and weaknesses."

RC-9934 laughed. "I like you. You're funny."

He snorted. "We're not meant to be funny." His tone was sharp. "We're meant to be-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Save me the lecture. We'll be hearing it plenty before all this is over."

They continued in silence. He had a thought.

"We're alive, you know."

RC-9934 stopped. "Of course we are."

"I mean, we're born." He made a vague motion toward the structures on their left. RC-9934's eyes widened and he whistled.

"You're right," he whispered. "They're alive too, but we're…"

"Born," RC-7156 finished.

And they stood there, watching the unborn, thankful they had the chance.


	2. Family

**Family**

RC-7533 looked up as three other units entered the room and filled the three empty places at the end of the line. They stared straight ahead, all wearing the same gray and red uniforms the other one hundred units were clothed in. In front of them, pacing in slow, even strides, was their training sergeant, B'arin Apma. His boots had been shined to the point they reflected the lights above. RC-7533 found it amusing.

"Welcome." Sergeant Apma's voice was crisp and clear. He looked at each unit in turn in the front row, his eyes briefly resting on RC-7533. "Up until this point, you were programmed to believe you are disposable units. As of right now, I will not hear anyone referring to themselves or others as such. Am I clear?"

"Sir yes sir!" Their voices blended together in perfect harmony in the reply, and RC-7533 almost smiled in satisfaction.

"You have all been issued numbers. I want you to change this. The only time I will use your numbers is if I feel you are in need of extreme reprimanding. I do not want to hear anyone refer to themselves or any other by a number. You may choose your own names, or you may earn them throughout your training. Until you have a name, I will only refer to you by the last two numbers issued to you. If you have any questions, ask them now."

He already looked around at the identical faces, waiting. No one spoke and after a moment, he spoke again.

"You will be issued into pods of four boys each. I am going to move down your lines and divide you up. When you have your pod together, stand together and await further instruction."

Sergeant Apma's boots clicked on the floor as he moved to the end of the line and pointed at the first boy. "You, over there." He moved his hand to motion toward a corner of the room beyond some training mats. The unit immediately walked briskly to the designated area and stood to attention. Apma continued down the line, directing the other two boys to two other corners and then stopped in front of RC-7533.

"Over there." He pointed to a bare wall. RC-7533 slowly walked to the designated area, swallowing down a rising feeling of solitude. He turned and stood to attention, watching Apma move onto the next line and then the next. No other units joined him.

"Your number." Apma's voice rang out over the sound of the last unit's receding footsteps. His attention was focused on the fifth member of the third row, a cocky looking boy who had the nerve to stare Apma down without flinching.

"RC-9934," the unit rattled off in a clear voice, sticking his chin out proudly and his eyes blazing.

"Over there." He pointed toward RC-7533, and he felt a surge of hope. He wasn't alone.

RC-9934 strode over confidently and moved next to RC-7533.

"You are confident," RC-7533 whispered, glad for Apma's continued speaking in the background.

RC-9934 nodded. "Why shouldn't I be? We are alive, we are born. We have a sergeant, a future. I will do well, go far." He looked at RC-7533. "We all will."

"How do you know?"

A slow grin spread across RC-9934's face. "We're here, aren't we? But I don't know, not for sure. I just hope and believe it."

RC-7533 nodded, watching Apma break apart another row and move on. Another unit started for them, his eyes straight ahead and focused.

"Well, if it isn't rigid himself," RC-9934 muttered, still wearing the grin. "I met him earlier, when we came out."

RC-7533 was quiet as the third unit approached and fell into attention beside them.

"Hey there, again." RC-9934 poked the new unit in the ribs. "7156, right?"

"Yes, RC-9934." His tone was clipped and he kept his gaze on the far wall.

"Well, funny we're in the same pod, don't you think?" His grin widened.

"Hilarious."

Silence reigned as the last of the units were broken and the final member of their pod approached. He was just as silent as RC-7156 and RC-7533, though RC-7533 felt it wasn't an unfriendly silence like RC-7156's silence.

"All right! You have your pods." Apma began to pace up and down the room again. "I will give you a few minutes to get acquainted with each other. You are not just pods; you are families, and I expect you to act as such together. The four of you together will work, exercise, eat, and rest together, as a family. You have ten minutes."

The other units scattered around the room immediately began talking all at once, the room filling with a buzz of noise.

"Let's sit down." RC-9934 quickly sat down, crossing his legs under him. Slowly, RC-7533 and the final unit sat down on either side of him in what would form a square. RC-7156 remained standing.

"So, I'm 9934 and rigid over here is 7156. What about you two?"

"7533." He spoke the numbers quickly but quietly.

"8112."

"We're family now." RC-9934 placed his hands on their shoulders, glancing up at RC-7156. "And we need names. I hate the numbers."

"A flaw in the programming, maybe?" RC-8112 asked slowly, drawing each word out with an interesting drawl. RC-7533 guessed it would fade with time, he hoped. He didn't want to see any of his new family members disappear for reconditioning. He closed his eyes and almost shuddered with the thought.

"No. You heard Apma. We need names, not numbers. He wants us to have names." RC-9934 looked up at RC-7156. "So how 'bout you start?"

RC-7156 sighed heavily and sat down, completing their square. "I can't think of a name right away, you know." He rubbed the toe of his boot absent-mindedly.

"We'll get it eventually," RC-8112 said, his words coming out a little faster than the last time. "Our skills and abilities can help, once our training starts."

"Yeah. Guess we can just talk now." RC-9934 rolled his shoulders and neck, grinning. "So, what are you boys most looking forward to?"

"Who knows what we'll be facing?" RC-7156 asked. He shrugged, his gaze flicking toward Apma's pacing form. "Anything and everything, I suppose."

The other three nodded.

"Looks like everyone else is about done." RC-9934 dropped his voice to a whisper. "Like the Sarge said, we're family now." He reached his hand into the middle of their square, palm facing down. Slowly, RC-7156 placed his hand atop.

"Brothers," he said, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

RC-7533 glanced at them both before placing his hand atop theirs. "Brothers."

They all looked expectantly at RC-8112. He quickly completed the square again, his hand atop all of them.

"Brothers."

"Forever," RC-9934 said.

"Forever," they echoed.

They had bonded.


	3. Training

**Training**

RC-8112 twisted around right as the blaster shot hit him dead center. The pain tore through his abdomen like fire, and the breath was knocked from his lungs as he slammed back into the training mat. His fingers curled tighter around the Deece in his hand, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't dead, so it wasn't live fire. He was thankful.

"'12!" The scream rose above the sound of obvious battle raging around him. RC-9934 sprinted over, skidding to a stop beside him and taking up defense position. He straddled RC-7533, his blaster poised to shoot at the other units advancing on them.

"What's going on?" RC-7156 ducked under a shot meant for his head and crawled over.

"'12's been hit. It doesn't look good." RC-9934 didn't hide the tremor in his voice.

"Would you relax?" RC-7156 hissed, his teeth obviously clenched. "This isn't real, none of it is. If you're so worried, drag him to Apma and complain."

And then he was gone, ducking under one of the enemy units and smacking his Deece into the unit's neck. The boy went down with a groan and did not get up.

"'12, it's gonna be okay, you hear me? Just lie still, I've got you covered."

RC-8112 closed his eyes, blocking out the bright lights above and the colorful blaster bolts shooting crisscrossed over him. His HUD subdued most of the color, it wasn't as intense, but he already felt a headache coming on. He moaned and then felt an arm slide under his shoulders, lifting.

"What are you-"

"Just shut up and keep still!" RC-9934 draped RC-8112's arm around his shoulders, half dragging and half walking him off the training floor. "Hey '33! I could use some help over here!"

RC-7533 bolted over, diving over a fallen unit and curling into a roll. He straightened next to RC-9934 and RC-8112, his back to them.

"Got you covered. Get him out."

RC-7533 kept pace with them as they made their way to the far wall and RC-9934 gently eased '12 against the padded surface.

"Just stay put, okay?" He held up his hands in a stay motion and then the two pod mates ran off. RC-8112 rolled his head to look in the other direction, quickly picking out RC-7156 from the melee. He closed his eyes again. The pain in his chest still burned, but it was fading into a dull ache. He wondered if it would scar. He had heard of other units who had taken a direct hit like that and now carried the puckered pink marks from it. The corners of his mouth moved, but he couldn't tell if he was smiling or grimacing. He wanted a scar, but did it have to hurt so much?

The blaster fire around him continued, a steady stream of colored bolts whizzing back and forth between sides. RC-8112 sighed, trying to force his eyes to stay open.

"I hate battles," he mumbled before succumbing to the darkness.

A light flashed across the dark, and RC-8112 jerked up, gasping. The Kaminoan above him frowned but said nothing, turning away from the table he was stretched out on and setting down the needle. His hand strayed to his chest, now bare. The training armor he had been wearing had been removed, and a bacta patch had been applied to his burn. He could see the edges of pink extending farther out than the bacta patch covered, fading into white. It must not have been bad, if they hadn't covered it. He traced the pink lines, smiling. His first scar.

"RC-8112, you may go now." The Kaminoan didn't even look at him.

He slid off the table and pulled on his shirt, heading for the door while he did so. The hallway was empty except for two other units heading toward him. His lips lifted in disgust. _Troopers…_

The two passed by without a word, and RC-8112 didn't give the underlings a second thought. He moved almost of his own accord, his mind dwelling on what could possibly have occurred while he was unconscious. In only a few minutes, RC-8112 was standing in front of the door leading to the shared quarters of his pod. He waved a hand absent-mindedly in front of the panel and the door slid open silently.

RC-7156 was sitting at the table in the middle of the room, his disassembled Deece spread out before him. RC-7533 sat across from him, flipping through the pages of a manual, and RC-9934 was sprawled out on his bunk with another manual, pretending to study it. Upon his entrance, his brothers looked up.

RC-9934's face spread out in a wide grin and he got up. "Well, would you look who's up and around?" He slapped RC-8112's shoulder, glancing back at the other two at the table. RC-7533 looked pleased, and RC-7156 maintained his usual neutral expression.

"So, let's see it!" RC-9934 rocked forward, grinning. He motioned toward '12's shirt. "Come on!"

Smiling, RC-8112 lifted his shirt to reveal the bacta patch and edges of the scar. RC-9934 whistled.

"Lucky," he muttered, reaching out and tracing the edges lightly before drawing his hand quickly away. "Cool looking."

RC-8112 lowered his shirt, certain they had seen their fill. "So, what did I miss?"

"Not much afterward. Apma punished a few others for getting too rowdy during the session. One of 'em was the guy who shot you."

"Oh." RC-8112 rubbed the spot. "Guess he got what was coming to him?"

"You'd better believe it." RC-9934 sat down on his bunk, pushing the manual aside. "Apma gave him a good tongue lashing, and he was using a bunch of words nobody could make heads or tails of."

"That was the next lesson," RC-7156 spoke up, clicking together several pieces of his Deece. "Mando'a. He wants us all to learn it." He shrugged, rubbing a hand across the sleek barrel of the weapon.

"I liked it, you know." RC-9934 lay back. "It went by really fast too. They called it flash training."

RC-8112 pulled an extra chair out and sat down. "So, will I get the lesson?"

"Oh yeah. Apma set up a private flash for you." RC-9934 propped himself up on an elbow. "At 0700 tonight."

"Great." '12 reached down and tugged off his boots. "We got nothing until then, right?"

"Right." '34 grinned. "Until dinner at least. I hope we have the mystery meat again. That blue one was good."

RC-7156 rolled his eyes. "You think all the meat is good, '34."

"You know, we still have to find ourselves names. I'm getting tired of the numbers." '34 glanced at RC-7533, grinning. "You've been really quiet over there, almost like a bird."

"What's a bird?" RC-8112 asked.

"It was in the flash. You'll see." RC-9934 grew serious, studying. "A bird..maybe like a dove? How 'bout that, '33? Call yourself Dove."

RC-7533 glanced up, flipping a page in the manual. "Sounds dumb," he muttered.

"Okay, well shorten it, or something."

'33 shook his head. "Just give it up, all right? Dove is dumb."

"You're just no fun," '34 muttered, turning back to his manual.

"What about Dov?"

Everyone looked at him. RC-8112 swallowed. "You know, just take the 'e' off. Dov. Almost like Dove, but not as dumb."

"Dov." '33 turned the name over slowly, like he was trying to taste it. And then he smiled. "I like it." He looked around at the identical faces, and RC-8112 smiled.

"Dov it is."


	4. Flash

**Flash**

"Well, '12, this is your first flash training." Apma's boots clicked on the floor as he walked, RC-8112 keeping pace with him. "I do apologize you missed it earlier with the rest of your pod."

"Yes sir." RC-8112 glanced up at the man. "I got a scar instead."

Apma chuckled. "That you did, ad'ika."

"Sir?" RC-8112 stopped in front of the door when Apma did, barely noticing as it slid open.

"You'll understand, '12, in a moment. It's something I want all of you to learn, the language of our culture. Yours and mine, if you'll have it. Using it is completely up to you, but I want you to embrace your full potential as a Mandolorian."

"Yes sir. I won't disappoint you."

"Well ,go on now. The training module is there." Apma pointed toward a pod shaped module of durasteel.

RC-8112 stepped toward the empty training module and glanced back over his shoulder. Apma waved him toward it, then folded his arms and leaned against the wall. RC-8112 fixed the large gray dome with a determined look before entering it. He sat down on the metal bench and pushed the button on the console in front of him.

The screen lit up white, and a stream of information flashed across it. RC-8112 jumped back, closing his eyes for a brief second before watching the slides click by every few seconds. He'd missed some information; he could get it later from the others, they wouldn't hold it from him.

_Aranar. _That one was good. _Defend. _

The words continued to scroll along the screen. RC-8112 didn't have time to read through them all, but they'd be there. He could think about them later. He supposed he should be thankful the Kaminoans had designed him with a quickly adapting and absorbing mind; otherwise he would never be able to remember any of what was passing in front of him.

_Hut'uunla ._Cowardly. He'd have to remember that one; he didn't want to end up hut'uunla.

_Besbe'trayce. _Weapons.

_Aliit. _Family.

The words scrolled faster, but he saw it all. He even saw the bird the others had been talking about. And then, the flash was over. The screen went back and the hum of power ceased. RC-8112 stood up slowly, rubbing his hands on his trousers. It was hot inside the module, and he only just realized he was sweating.

Apma was still standing against the wall when '12 stepped out of the module and walked over, stopping at attention and saluting. Apma straightened, smiling.

"You learn quickly, don't you ad'ika?" he asked, motioning for '12 to be at ease. Apma turned and started for the door, RC-8112 falling in step beside him.

"Yes sir."

"And you have an aliit here."

"Yes sir." RC-8112 tamped down a grin.

Apma stopped and crouched down to be at '12's eye level. His large hand rested on the clone boy's shoulder. "'12, I don't ever want you to forget who you are. You are a part of this community, a part of this aliit. Never let your aliit, or your vode, down. Do you understand?"

RC-8112 nodded slowly. He had vode, his brothers. He had Sergeant Apma, his alor. And he had an aliit, his family.

"Good then." Apma smiled warmly, straightening and dropping his hand. "You are done for today, '12. Go back to your pod, and be ready for tomorrow."

He saluted, nodded once, and went his way.


	5. Trouble

**Trouble**

Dov looked back over his shoulder at the empty hallway. "Would you hurry up?"

RC-7156 glanced up, annoyed. "Quit talking, and maybe I'll go a little faster." He removed the door panel, revealing a twisted mess of wires and chips. "Why do they put all this stuff in here anyway?"

Behind him, RC-9934 hopped from one foot to the other and moaned. "I can almost taste them."

"You don't even know what they taste like," RC-8112 snapped. He rolled his eyes as '56 pulled two random wires and twisted them together. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Would you just shut up?" RC-7156 narrowed his eyes, studying the panel and the wires he had just disconnected.

"Here, move." RC-8112 nudged '56's shoulder and knelt down in front of the panel. He took hold of the wires and smoothed them out, pushing them back inside.

"You don't know how that works either, so what does it matter who does it?" Dov asked.

"Shut up, ner'vod." '12 traced the pattern of wires and stopped, tapping his fingers against the side of the panel. He pinched a wire between his forefinger and thumb, took a deep breath, and pulled.

The door slid open, and the other three boys let out a subdued cheer.

"How did you do that?" RC-9934 asked, clapping '12 on the back as he stood.

RC-8112 shrugged. "It looked the most obvious. It was connected to the innermost part of the door, so all I had to do was disconnect it to get access."

"Well, aren't you all techy?" RC-9934 grinned. "Let's go! I'm dying for a strawberry."

RC-7156 stepped in front of the door. "Looks clear," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Come on."

The inside of the room was simply furnished; a table stood close to the large window, two metal chairs flanking it. On the far right wall, a holo-image of a dark haired woman smiled at the four boys. On the left, a long red couch curved against the wall.

"That's kind of creepy," RC-9934 muttered, motioning toward the image. It flickered for a moment and then raised its hand in greeting. "Really creepy."

"Let's just find the strawberries." RC-7156 headed for a doorway to the right of the couch and looked in. "Looks like a kitchenette in here." He glanced back. "Dov, stand guard, would you?"

Dov shrugged and moved closer to the door, now closed.

"This is so awesome!" RC-9934 pressed a hand into the couch. "We're in Apma's private quarters."

"Would you stop that?" '56 hissed. "You're going to leave our fingerprints everywhere!"

"Big deal." He sat down on the couch. "We're all the same, so our fingerprints are the same. No one'll know it was us, and they won't even know we were here. It's not like Apma randomly scans everything in here for signs of intrusion."

RC-8112 stepped closer to the door, glancing up the frame and then at the ceiling. "Weird how he doesn't have any security cams or anything in here." He traced the door frame and then dropped his hand, turning to the other two. "So, the strawberries?"

RC-7156 ducked through the doorway. '34 bounced a few times on the couch.

"It's really comfortable. You should try it, '12." He grinned, folding his hands behind his head and laying back. "Ah, this is the life. I'm telling you, one of these days we're going to be kings."

"Yeah, in your dreams." '56 stepped out, a square container in his hands. '34 sat up a little straighter.

"What's that?"

"I don't know, but whoever started the thing about strawberries is a liar and a di'kut." He strode over, peeling the lid off. "But this, I think, is way better."

RC-9934 got up and peered inside. "Looks like a mess."

"Let me see." Dov pushed between '56 and '34. "Ew."

RC-8112 grabbed RC-7156's wrist and pulled the container closer to look. Inside was what looked like a few slices of thick, dark bread smothered in sticky syrup. He poked it.

"Well, there go our strawberries." RC-9934 flopped back on the couch, sighing heavily and frowning.

RC-8112 licked his finger, smiling slowly. "It's sweet."

That got their attention.

"I want to try." Dov poked his finger in the syrup and tasted it. "That's good." He went for another taste, but RC-7156 smacked his hand away.

"Look, this is clearly Apma's. If we go putting our saliva in it, he'll definitely know who was in here. Us."

"You worry too much, you know that?" RC-9934 poked his shoulder, and '56 frowned. "Just relax, okay?"

"So the question, boys, is: do we make off with this, or continue the hunt for our evasive strawberries?" RC-9934 asked after '56 reluctantly had a taste of the syrup.

"I vote this." Dov nodded. "It's really good."

"Agreed." RC-8112 glanced back at the door.

"Okay then, let's eat!" RC-9934 pulled the container away from '56.

"Wait a second. We can't." RC-7156 reached for the container, but '34 held it away out of reach.

"Why not? And don't get started about this whole 'Apma's going to catch us because he found out', but he's not going to because one, we all share the same DNA; and two, no sane person is going to scan their whole house for intrusion."

"All right, I got that." RC-7156 frowned, glancing at the container and then '34's face. "It's just-"

They froze, four pairs of eyes fixing on the door. The footsteps outside were heavy, continuing for three seconds, and then stopping.

"Quick, hide!" RC-9934 pushed Dov toward the couch. "Behind it!" He pulled on '12's arm, then pushing him toward the doorway. "Go!"

RC-7156 and RC-8112 ran into the kitchen.

"Dead end!" '56 looked back. "We're so dead."

"You think?" RC-8112 pulled a cabinet open. "Get in!"

RC-7156 squeezed in and curled up in the corner, and RC-8112 squeezed in front of him, pulling the cabinet door closed.

"I should have replaced that panel," he whispered.

"You didn't put the panel back?" RC-7156 almost shouted, but '12 clamped a hand across his mouth.

"Just shut up, okay?" His breathing sounded loud, and his heart pounded in his ears. He could hear the footsteps crossing the front room, completely regular. Nothing was noticed yet. RC-8112 squeezed his eyes shut.

For a split second, everything was calm; RC-8112 could feel '56's knee poking his ribs. Apma's steps hadn't slowed, they just got louder. He was coming into the kitchenette. '12 barely dared to breathe.

The footsteps stopped, and a shadow fell across the small sliver of light coming through the cabinet. RC-8112 wished he could squeeze farther back into the cabinet. Then the shadow moved, silently. '12's eyes widened. Apma knew they were there, and he was hunting them.

He swallowed down his fear right as the cabinet door was thrown open and Apma was staring down at them. RC-8112 hiccupped.

"Run!" RC-7156 poked his back, sending him tumbling out of the cabinet. Apma stepped back, and RC-8112 scrambled to his feet, rushing for the door with '56 on his heels.

"Go! Go!" RC-7156 shoved his shoulder. "Get out of here!"

Dov poked his head up from behind the couch, and RC-9934 stepped out of another doorway.

RC-8112 hit the door panel, glancing back toward the kitchenette doorway. RC-9934 was within his sight, and he saw something that made his stomach drop.

"Why do you still have that? Just drop it!"

RC-9934 stared confused for a moment at the container still in his hands, then his eyes widened in fear.

"Where do you all think you're going?"

RC-8112 turned slowly, pushing his back against the door. Apma leaned against the kitchenette doorframe, his arm raised and a disconnected wire pinched between his fingers.

'12 swallowed.


	6. Beaten

**Beaten**

Apma folded his arms, staring at the four of them. The boys were seated on the red couch, hands folded, and holding absolutely still.

"What is the meaning of this?" their training sergeant finally asked after several tense moments when the only sound in the room was the sound of a heating generator somewhere.

"It was my fault, sir." RC-7156 stood up. "You see…" He swallowed, his gaze darting back to his three brothers behind him. "We heard a rumor that you had strawberries, and we…We just wanted to know what they tasted like."

"So you decided breaking in was your best option?" Apma's frown increased.

"No sir. I mean… We only wanted to see if you could pass our own expectations regarding stealth." RC-7156 lowered his gaze. "Sergeant Apma, I would like to ask that whatever punishment you decide upon be exempt upon my brothers and that it will only rest upon me."

At this, Apma relaxes. "Taking responsibility again, I see." He sighs. "Well, it seems I have no choice but to let all four of you go. Nothing was damaged, and the only thing I've lost at this point is a bit of time and some uj cake. But be warned: do not do it again, or you will face more serious consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

All four echoed the familiar "Yes sir."

"Dismissed." Apma waved toward the door. "And keep out of trouble, yes?"

RC-7156 nodded. "Thank you, sergeant."

The others stood and they filed out, the door shutting behind them. For a moment, they were silent as they walked down the hall back toward their barracks.

"Were you really going to take our punishment?" Dov asked quietly.

"Yes," RC-7156 said in a steely tone. "It's my responsibility."

"Since when?" RC-7533 asked, turning and walking backward. "No one appointed you squad leader."

"And you think you could lead?" '56 asked angrily.

"Maybe," '33 answered.

RC-7156 shook his head, ignoring him. "You couldn't do it- you may have the bravado, but you don't have the guts. There's a difference."

"I could do it, you know. Just because you're the firstborn doesn't mean you're the natural leader. You have to give the rest of us a chance!"

"I didn't see you standing up there wanting everyone's punishment!"

"Stop it." RC-8112 stepped between them before they could come to blows. "Look, what matters is that we weren't punished. Apma let us off with a warning, okay? Fighting isn't helping us right now; we're supposed to be a team, a family. Not a squabbling mess."

After a moment, both of them soften and back off. "Sorry," '33 mumbles, scuffing his boot against the floor.

"That's alright. I'm sorry too." RC-7156 held his hand out. '33 grasped his hand.

"No harm done, I suppose"

"So, now what do we do?" Dov asked as they continued their walk.

'56 shrugged. "Go back to training and keep out of trouble, like Apma said."

"Doesn't sound fun," '33 mumbled.

"No. Face it, he beat us," RC-8112 said.

"But, he hasn't broken us." '56 looked at each one in turn. "Our time will come; you'll see. Look, we're the best of the best. Nothing can get us down. Not Apma, not this."

Slowly, they all nodded, one by one. RC-7533 was the first to crack a smile.

"So, who wants to lockdown the training arena?" he asked with a mischevious smile.


	7. Plans

**Plans**

Dov followed his brothers through the meal line to their table on the far side of the room. Four chairs, four sides, completely symmetrical. He smiled.

"Okay, red mystery meat…again." '33 said with a sigh, setting his tray down.

'12 laughed. "What's the matter? Thought you liked it."

"Not this stuff." He poked the substance with his fork, grimacing. "I'm not hungry. You want it?" he asked, looking at Dov.

He reached for the tray, but '56 stayed his hand.

"No, don't. You're going to need that. We've got Black Training tonight."

'33 frowned. "Who told you that?"

There was a pause. Everyone was watching '56.

"Apma is considering me for a command position," he said quietly.

"What?" '33 leaned back in his chair. "You've got to be kidding."

'56 shrugged. "I didn't ask for it."

"So, is it live fire?" '12 asked, steering the conversation back to the original subject.

"I'm not sure. Apma didn't say, but he did tell he doesn't think we're ready for this yet." '56 pushed the red meat across his plate.

"Great," '33 muttered. "Just great."

"Anyway…" '12 cleared his throat, pulling out a small datapad from his pocket. "The training arena."

"Are we still going through with this?" 7156 asked, annoyed.

Dov glanced around. "Keep it down; we don't need anyone listening." The room around them was abuzz with a couple hundred other identical voices all talking.

"Right. So, the training arena. You guys still want to go through with the lockdown?"

"Heck yeah." '33 grinned.

'56 rolled his eyes, and Dov shrugged.

"Okay, so I've mapped out our exact route and the necessary targets, but…" '12 paused.

"But?" '33 prodded.

"It's going to take us a few months."

"Are you serious? How come?"

"Look, I just started on the slicing program. The training arena has one of the highest and most difficult security systems in this place. It's not going to be just a simple lockdown; I've got to get through codes, alarms, doors, whole thing."

"So why do it at all?" '56 asked, hoping to talk them all out of the plan.

"Because its' fun, and we need a good challenge outside our regular training."

'56 sat back, frowning. "I don't think it's a good idea. Remember what Apma said?"

They all glanced at each other. Apma had let them off with a warning last time; who knew what he would say if they tried the arena?

"I still think we should do it. We'd go down as legends!"

"Can you not be realistic?" '56 asked sternly.

"Can you not have fun?" '33 asked back.

Dov hid a smile.

"Alright, fine. Do what you want, but when you guys get in trouble, I am not being held responsible."

'33 grinned in satisfaction. "What could go wrong?"

"Um, lots?" '56 suggested.

"You're too uptight, you know that?"

"Whatever."

'12 shook his head. "Okay, so like I was saying, its' going to take a few months. Once I learn the techniques, I think I can get into the main computer system and lock it down."

"Would you be able to lock it so no one else has access?" '33 asked.

"Think so, yeah." '12 paused, glancing around at his brothers. "You guys know we're going to be perfectly screwed after this, right?"

"Relax, okay?" '33 scraped up the last of the meat, finishing it. "If you can rig it so we have total control with no one finding out it was us, we're perfectly set."

"True," '12 mused. "There is one problem though."

'56 leaned forward. "And that would be?"

"I thought you weren't interested," '33 cut in.

"Shut up, ner'vod. I'm just getting the facts here."

"Okay. So the problem," '12 continued, ignoring the banter. "The only way I can lock down the arena is from the inside, from this computer terminal here." He pointed out the location on the datapad. "Then I'd have to get up to the ceiling to escape through the vent shafts."

"So what's the big deal exactly?" Dov asked.

"I've no way of getting up there after shutting everything down."

Everyone stared at him, slack-jawed.

"You're kidding, right?"

'12 shook his head. "I wish."

"Well, that plan is shot." '56 sounded relieved.

"Not exactly. There is a backup terminal in the watchtower where Apma stays when we're in there. But, if I shut everything down from inside, someone else is going to have to get me out from up there."

"Why the heck would they put the main terminal inside the arena anyway?" Dov asked.

"Uh.. I don't know. Why do they do anything around here?"

'33 groaned and thumped his head flat on the table. "This is messed up."

"Look, I thought it would be kind of easy too, but it's not. There's always a drawback."

"Can you somehow fix the drawback? Maybe program the main terminal to the backup so we can do it all from up there?"

"That would take years of studying, and I've only just started, '33. It's not like I'm a magician."

'56 spoke next. "So can we agree this plan is stupid and not do it?"

"No way," '33 argued. "We can figure this out. Come on, '12. Give us something to work with."

'12 sighed. "Did you hear nothing I said?"

"No, he didn't," '56 answered. "He's pushing it, as usual."

'33 glared at him. "Whatever." He stood up, collecting his empty tray. "I'm heading to the room to get ready for tonight. See you guys later." He slunk off.

"He's mad," Dov said.

"He'll get over it, I hope." '56 glanced around at them. "Come on, we should get ready too."


	8. Black Training

**Black Training**

**A/N: To laloga, at this point in time the boys are about the standard age seen of most cadets in the Clone Wars television series. I hope this helps! **

'12 couldn't hear anything except his labored breathing. He'd been running around this maze for an hour, following '56's lead with the rest of their pod. They'd been tasked with locating a "bomb"…in the pitch dark.

"Don't worry about it," '33 had said earlier while they were arming up for the training. "We've got this."

Now, '12 wasn't so sure. It had been too long, and he felt like they were going in circles. Not to mention the other pods running around looking for the bomb too…

_Shoot the unfriendlies. Cover your vode. Don't die._

He really hoped this exercise wasn't live-fire; they'd all heard the horror stories of those who went through live fire. Not many came back to tell about it.

He just wanted to find the darn bomb and get out alive. Of course, that had been their mission before they'd conveniently lost '56 and Dov.

"There's a new door over here," '33 whispered over their shared comm channel. "Cover me."

'12 moved behind him, facing the darkness around them. They had been allowed night vision sensors, but no lamps. _Great…_

'33 blasted through the door, shocking another trainee. He felled the boy with a bolt to the chest. '12 stepped over his fallen comrade, trying not to grimace. He hoped the boy wasn't dead.

"Any sign of them?" he asked, ignoring the pounding of his heart in his ears.

"No, not yet. Don't worry, they couldn't have gone far." '33 kept on, keeping his training Deece pointed straight ahead.

"I hope not," '12 muttered, glancing behind. A shadow moved. He whirled around and shot three times. There was a strangled cry that sounded like death and then silence. His hand shook; he'd just shot someone.

'33 cursed in Mando'a and rushed past him toward the fallen boy. '12 advanced slowly, keeping an eye out for any others, and then focused on his target. He swallowed.

"He's fine," '33 said, standing. "Come on, help me carry him."

'12 moved to Dov's other side and slid his arm under his brother's neck, lifting with '33.

"You want to carry him?" '33 asked. '12 shrugged, so all of Dov's weight ended up on his shoulders.

"Hey!"

They turned as another trainee stepped out of the deeper shadows toward them, Deece held up menacingly.

"'56, are we glad to see you," '33 said, a grin evident from his voice.

"Save it." '56 shouldered past him to the front. "Get to the back, cover '12 and Dov."

"Yes sir," '33 muttered, retreating to the back.

"Come on, Dov and I found the bomb. It's through here." '56 led them down a corridor '12 hadn't seen before, and then they came across the large black box. '33 took Dov from him.

"Go, '12. You got this."

'12 pulled out the small tool pack on his belt and got to work diffusing the "bomb". In only a few moments, the entire structure lay disconnected around him.

"Congratulations, Squad 994," Apma's voice came over the speakers. "All of you may report to the briefing room now."

The lights came on, nearly blinding everyone. '12 switched to normal vision on his helmet, his eyes adjusting quickly to the sudden brightness.

The boys filed out, sticking close among the crowd of other trainees headed for the briefing room next door. Once inside, they all formed up with their respective pods in careful lines. Apma walked in and strode up and down the line a few times before speaking.

"Squad 994 step forward." Apma stops pacing and clasps his hands behind him, waiting.

'56 nodded to the others and stepped out of line. '33 shifted Dov's weight, his brother's head rolling to the opposite side.

"You all are responsible for completing the training exercise and dismantling the bomb," Apma said.

'12 tried not to grin. They'd done well this time.

"Failed, all of you." Apma looked at each boy in turn. "You failed to work as a team, you forced the dismantlement of the bomb on one team member, you didn't stick together, and you fired on one of your own."

Disappointment evident, none of them moved.

"Get your vod to the medbay, and I want a full report when you're finished."

"Yes sir." '56 saluted and led them out.


	9. Briefing

**A/N: I'm so excited; Vode An is almost at 10 chapters! :) I've decided to expand this story into a series; go check out my profile for more on that! Because of that, Vode An has only one more chapter until its finished. Thanks so much to everyone who's read and reviewed this fic, you guys are awesome! (Special thanks to laloga for being the first to review. :D ) **

**Briefing**

'56 stood absolutely still while Apma thought. The tall man sat at his desk, his hands folded, and looking toward a chrono on the wall behind the clone boy.

"'56, I understand your position." Apma stood. "You did what you could, but the responsibility of what happened still falls on your shoulders."

"I understand, sir." '56 kept his gaze fixed ahead.

"Come here, I want to show you something." Apma went around his desk and pulled a drawer open. '56 slowly came around, looking down at the strange weapon his training sergeant held.

"See this pin here?" Apma pointed out the tiny device on the strange blaster. '56 nodded. "It's called the holt; it keeps the whole blaster held together. Pull it out, and it falls apart. You," he put a hand on '56's shoulder, "are like this pin. You hold your pod together, Holt. Don't forget that."

'56 nodded. Holt, Apma had called him. He held them together, and he was responsible for his vode.

"I think I can handle that, sir. I'm sorry for the failed mission; it won't happen again."

"I know, Holt. I'll hold you to that." Apma took a seat again, motioning toward the only other chair in the room. "From what I understand, '33 is giving you trouble. All bravado and guts, no real plan for anything."

"Yes sir, that's right." He couldn't keep from grinning as he took a seat.

"Hm…sounds like the jek-bird. I saw one once, on Felucia, a long time ago. It attacks in a show of color and sound, but doesn't have a clear idea what it's doing."

Holt laughed, grinning. "Sure sounds like '33," he agreed.

"He'll learn in time," Apma said, smiling a little. "And Chip…he's a smart boy."

"Sir?"

"I mean '12. He's smart and resourceful; he'll do you all a lot of good."

"Why Chip?"

"For the name?" Apma looked at him. "He holds a lot of intel, explains his interest in computers and slicing." He reached across and gripped Holt's shoulder. "Stick with your vode, Holt. I have a feeling you will all go far."

He stood. "Thank you, sir, for everything."

Apma nodded. "Alright, go on. See to your vode."

"So, what did Apma say?" '33 asked when they were all back in their room before light's out.

"He listened to my report of the failure, gave a rather soft reprimand, and…" Holt paused, thinking over Apma's words. New names and a promise. He stood. "Look, I've got something to say."

They all focused on him; Dov from his bunk, and '12 and '33 from the table in the center of the room.

"Apma believes in us, all of us. He told me we'll go far."

"So he's playing favorites?" '33 asked.

"Yes, Jek. He is. Look at us; we're solid, aren't we?" Holt looked at each one in turn. "Chip, you're the brains here. Dov, you're our strength. And Jek, you're our courage."

Each one nodded slowly, mulling over the names they'd been given.

"So, what does that make you?" Jek asked.

"The leadership we all need." Holt pulled a chair out and sat so he could see them all. "The only way we can get out of here is working together. So far, I say really just suck at that."

Jek nodded. "Yeah. It's mostly my fault."

"No, not just you." Chip rubbed his head. "It's all of us. We all want to be in charge."

"So can we agree that I'm in charge?" Holt asked.

They all murmured their agreements, glancing at each other.

"So, did Apma pick those names?" Jek asked.

"Yeah, he did."

"I like mine," Chip said. "Suits me."

"Mine too," Jek agreed.

"So, from now one we stop focusing on being the best of the team and actually work at being a team. Agreed?"

"Definitely." Chip grasped Holt's arm. "A team, an _aliit." _


	10. Leaving

**A/N: Well, here it is: the final chapter of Vode An! :) I'm so happy to have completed this fic, although its a bittersweet happiness. Originally, I had planned for this story to go so much further, but I'm glad to end it here and leave room for more fics in the future. Thank you all so much for sticking with this story (and its crazy short chapters); its been a ton of fun to write! **

**Stay tuned for the next fic in the series! **

**Leaving**

Holt looked around his pod's shared room for what he knew would be the last time. A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he took in the durasteel walls, the table in the center, and the four bunks. They'd all had so many memories here, but no more.

"I'm gonna miss this place." Jek walked over to one side of the bunks and touched the top one, looking back to Holt with a strange reminiscent look. "Good times."

Holt nodded. "We all will. But better times are ahead, I know it."

Jek grinned, the same insane smile Holt had gotten used to over the years. "You know, I used to wonder why our bunks were so long. But now I know." He laughed.

Chip grinned. "Remember our first night here?"

"Yeah." Holt readjusted the helmet under his arm. "You wouldn't shut up, Jek."

"None of us could sleep anyway, so what does it matter?"

Holt shrugged, smiling a little. "You all know four others are going to take this room once we're gone."

They all nodded, thinking over that scenario.

"We should do something, to claim it as ours," Jek suggested, pulling out his vibroblade. He scratched it into the plastoid top of the bunk and then glanced at his brothers, smiling insanely.

"Put your names on the bunks, as a parting gift to the next pod."

In a few moments, all the bunks had been carved into. Holt brushed away the bits of plastoid from the markings in Arabesh.

"Come on," he motioned toward the door. "We'd better go. Don't want to be late for our ride off this place."

They all filed out, and the door slid shut behind Holt. At the same time, a door was closing one chapter of his life, and a new one beginning.

"Ready?" Chip asked, tapping his helmet.

"As we'll ever be, vod." Holt slid his helmet on, and the others followed his action. The design was sleeker than the training helmets they'd been using up to this point; tons more upgrades than Holt figured he could ever hope to use. He was just glad Apma had given them their new gear a few days before to get used to it all.

"Let's go." He waved them toward the drop-out center. They walked in total silence, all occupied with thoughts of what could possibly come next. Their footsteps were quiet, but they walked in sync with each other.

The drop out center was bustling with activity as other commando squads prepared to depart. Apma walked among them, encouraging some and other times just observing the activity. Holt walked up to him, the others right on his heels.

"Sir." He saluted sharply, which Apma returned.

"Good to see you, Holt. Chip, Jek, Dov." He nodded to each. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yes sir," Holt replied, smiling underneath the visor. "At least, we hope so."

"You've all done well in your training. You'll be fine out there." Apma put a hand on Holt's shoulder plate. "Don't forget what I taught you."

"Brotherhood, stamina, loyalty," Holt repeated. Over the comm channel, he heard the others repeat the phrase in hushed tones. "We won't forget, sir."

"I know you won't. You four have been trained well; I'd like to think you're the best of the hundred and four." Apma smiled, nodding. "Go on, get in formation."

"Goodbye sir, and thank you." Holt grasped his sergeant's arm. "Ret'urcye mhi."

Apma nodded, smiling. "Ret'urcye mhi." One by one, he grasped each of their arms and repeated the phrase. Stepping back, he saluted them once.

Holt swallowed and turned to look at the large ship that would take them from Kamino into the unkown.

"We got this," Chip said.

Holt nodded. "Here we go."


End file.
